Ellery's trees are loaded with 'em."

Vetch's grip somewhat relaxed while Cludde was speaking, and,
seizing the opportunity, I wrenched my arm away with a sudden
movement and took to my heels. Being thin and light of foot, I was
a fleet runner, and though they immediately set off in pursuit, I
gained on them for a few yards, and had some hope of distancing
them altogether. But just as I came to where Dogpole runs into Wyle
Cop, a stitch in the side, which often seized me at inconvenient
times, forced me to slacken speed. Seeing this, they quickened
their pace, and in a few moments they would have had me at their
mercy.

But in that predicament I heard Joe Punchard whistling, through the
open door of the shop where he did 'prentice work for old Matthew
Mark, the cooper. I knew Joe well; he had often brought barrels to
our farm, and once or twice on my way home from school I had gone
into the shop and watched him at his work.

Now, as a fox when the hounds are in full cry behind him will run
for shelter into any likely place that offers, so I, hard pressed
as I was, rushed panting into the shop, too breathless at first to
explain my need.

"Hallo! What's this!" cried Joe, who was just rolling down his
sleeves before closing work for the day. "What be the matter,
Master Bold? You be all of a sweat and puffing like to burst."

"They're after me! Keep 'em off, Joe!" I gasped.